


MCYT Drabble Collection

by Onyxrayn



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Drabble Collection, Dream Smp, Hurt/Comfort, Sad, i wrote this for practice, it's not all angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29228292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyxrayn/pseuds/Onyxrayn
Summary: A collection of (mostly angst) MCYT/Dream SMP drabbles.
Kudos: 7





	1. It's Never My Time

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings are listed at the beginning of each chapter.  
> Enjoy :))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gives in, but instead of waking up in a pool of lava, he is surrounded by his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/// Suicide Attempt

Tommy stared down at the bubbling lava, the glow illuminating his sunken, almost painful eyes. His stomach let out a swirling growl, he wanted to vomit. The boy’s heart raced faster as he leaned over the edge of the makeshift bridge, the tickle of adrenaline rushing to his stomach and spreading through his limbs.

Conflicting thoughts were forced out as Tommy made up his mind. He wasn’t 100% sure when he turned his back to the lava, he wasn’t 100% sure as he took a step backward into the open air, and he 100% regretted it as he fell down, down, down. Tommy had jumped from high places many times before, landing in the safe water beneath him. This was just like that, right?

Tommy opened his eyes for a split second, the bridge almost calling for him to come back. A sudden, heart-wrenching shout, followed by a figure clad in just a green shirt sprinting off of the edge with no hesitation. Tommy was still falling, but his mind was no longer empty, Tubbo?

~~~

White noise. Darkness. Numb. Wait. Tommy lay for a few minutes, his senses returning to him unbearably slow. The sounds of voices came into tune. A deep baritone, almost gritty, was the most prominent. The other ones blended together, sudden noises like laughter and a stifled sneeze vibrated his bones.

He could see the light through his eyelids, it was far too bright to open his eyes. One thing that spurred Tommy ‘awake’ was a high, slightly pubescent voice. Tommy listened to the footsteps that came closer to where he was laying, a couch? He could feel the person staring at him unobtrusively.

As Tommy feigned waking up, his eyes peeked open to see a very, very distressed group of people. His friends, family, and Tubbo. Before Tommy could even begin to get a word out, he stopped himself. He looked between the people standing in a group behind the coffee table.

Phil was trying to maintain composure, his eyes were red, he looked down and sighed, swallowing the scolding he was about to give. Niki was actually crying, hysterically, Techno comforted her, a passive expression on his face as his snout twitched. Eret looked sympathetic, ready to help with something, he kept his distance though. Wilbur stood there, emotionless, just staring…

Tommy shifted his focus back to Tubbo, immediately being pulled into a bone-crushing embrace. Tubbo’s tears leaked through the shirt Tommy was wearing, which definitely was not his.

“I’m so sorry…” Tommy whispered into Tubbo’s back, Tubbo nodded in response. Tubbo peeled himself away as Phil took his place, kneeling down to look at Tommy. His gray wings brushed under the table weakly, Tommy couldn’t even look him in the eye. Tommy’s lip trembled before he shattered, tears flooding his vision.

“I-” Phil was rarely at a loss of words, “Son…” Those words alone made Tommy’s eyes ache with pressure. Phil grabbed Tommy’s hand and started rubbing circles in it, he didn’t say anything more. No one dared to get closer to Phil, everyone just stared at the floor, except for Wilbur, who- Hold on-

“Ph- Dad?” Phil’s head snapped up, his sunken eyes staring out painfully from under the brim of his hat, “am I dead?” Phil gave a confused smile and chuckled, “No, you’re not dead Tommy…” Tommy stared silently at his ‘dead’ brother, everyone turning their attention to where Tommy was staring.

“Then why can I see Wilbur?”


	2. It's Colourful, If you Like Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo is injured at the festival, and Wilbur and Tommy visit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Blood and Graphic Descriptions of Injury

As he crossed the threshold, Tommy’s heart gave an unpleasant drop, the feeling in his legs being replaced by a numbing static, black tar filling his brain. He let out raw, desperate cries as tears fogged the glass of the world around him.

He tried to run, his red-collared shirt being caught by a cold slender hand. White noise seared through his ears, mirroring his sharp breaths. “Tommy.” Wilbur soothed, trying to pick words from his own panicked thoughts, “Tommy…” Wilbur let Tommy loose, allowing him to rush forth.

A limp figure lay on a deeply stained linen bed. The dim, yellow lights illuminated a dark blot on the figure’s side, the glint of the substance contrasting from his clothes. As Tommy leaned mournfully at the side of the bed, the smaller boy awoke, letting out a high-pitched gasp of pain. “Tubbo?” Tommy whispered, his tear-stricken face softening.

Wilbur stood at the foot of the bed, his composure faltering as Tubbo sat up despite the immense pain, the two boys embracing. “I thought I lost you.” Tommy sobbed, grasping brown hair between his fingers, hugging tighter.

“Tommy…” Tubbo gently rested his head into the crook of the other’s neck as he was pushed into the hug. “Oh, okay, ouch.” Tubbo shied away from the hug as pain shot up his abdomen, propping himself against the headboard. Tommy gave a teary-eyed smile as he looked at his best friend.

Tommy thought the worst when Tubbo had been cornered, stabbed by a traitor, as he fell to the ground. Tommy had watched from the shadows as Tubbo was carried away by Niki, a growing pool dyeing his shirt a sickly brown.

Wilbur moved to the opposite side of the bed. Sitting a roll of clean bandages on the night-stand, a small lamp illuminating their texture. Tommy found a nearby chair and brought it forward as Wilbur peeled the white sheets away from the boy and began to wordlessly clean the repulsive wound, a sheen of pus coating the soft scab.

“Wilbur said Techno wasn’t going to hurt me,” Tubbo said, flinching as Wilbur peeled the soaked bandages back, his sutured wound exposed to the air. Tommy found himself adverting his vision, as Wilbur began to dab antiseptic over it, the warm foam streaking down Tubbo’s side. “Ow, ow,” Tubbo tried to evade Wilbur as he moved further up his bloodied side. Tommy offered his hand, the brunet squeezing it tighter when the burn didn’t let up.

“Sorry Tubbo,” Wilbur laid a gentle hand on the kid’s leg, “I know it hurts.” Tubbo couldn’t bring himself to look at where Wilbur’s hands were working, the pain was enough to make him vomit let alone the sight. Wilbur shushed Tubbo, words of encouragement slipping between his focused expression as he began to wrap bandages around the younger’s torso.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, not looking up, “there should be a gown or two in one of those drawers... Yeah, that’s the one.” The blonde sat it on the gray table, not breaking contact with Tubbo. “Why don’t you help me out some and put it on?” Wilbur laughed. Tommy scoffed, sharing a light-hearted gaze between him and Tubbo.

Tubbo silently protested as Tommy helped him out of his previously white shirt, working the buttons down. “Oh come on, would you rather me see your shirtless arse or sleep in this?” The taller laughed, fastening the cool fabric behind Tubbo’s neck. “There.” Tommy sat back, his thoughts still racing from the recent events.

It was now nightfall, cobblestone framing the windows to the outside, a dirt path illuminated by a dying street lamp. No conversation was exchanged between the two friends as they sat, an unusual occurrence. As Wilbur finished up, throwing the sheets back over Tubbo, he handed him a glass of water and painkillers. The boy quickly swallowed them, emptying the glass of water in a single breath.

“Here man,” Tommy shakily helped Tubbo lay back down, nervous as not to hurt him. “Wil,” Tommy stopped Wilbur in his tracks as he started towards the door, “I’m sleeping here tonight.”


	3. Basket of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil accidentally kidnaps a piglin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter :))

As the purple vertigo that rocked his vision wore off, Philza stepped onto the red, crumbly rock, the heat of the nether rushing towards his face immediately. He strode towards his unfinished mining site, a pickaxe and basket laying beside the abnormally large glints of ore. He let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, scanning for anything that could make a peaceful excavation go awry.

He settled back into his task with familiar ease, prying the precious gold away from its captor and throwing it into a nearby basket without looking. He repeated this until he pushed himself past boredom, his feathers drooped and sweat collected on his brow. Phil kicked the lid on the woven basket closed and headed back towards the swirling portal, he didn’t give a second thought towards the weight of the container he carried. 

The light of the overworld spotted his vision as he breathed in the clean air. Phil took a detour to his house to make some food, sitting the basket on the dinner table and starting to make a sandwich. A shuffling movement followed by a  _ thump _ drew his attention to the round table, which his back was turned to. He was taken aback at first, a small ball of pink sitting innocently before him. 

“Wha-” Phil sat his sandwich down and walked over to the baby piglin, “Where are your parents little guy?” The piglin let out a small coo, sneezing lightly and tilting its head. The piglin’s beady black eyes were entrancingly cute, it bore a resemblance to a puppy. A small bead of snot sat on the rim of the piglin’s nostril, Phil pulled his sleeve over his hand and wiped it, the piglin flinched away at this. As the winged man looked closer, a faint, jagged scar ran over the child’s eye, freshly scabbed cuts on his nose as well. 

“What happened to you kid?” He didn’t back up, instead, pulling out a chair to sit on. The piglin whimpered as a response. A poorly folded map of the nether lay on the table, Philza pulled it between the two, unfolding it and pulling a quill out of his satchel. He tapped the feather on the table before drawing a dotted line from a small circle to a star. The map was marked with various Galactic characters. Phil mumbled as he looked the map over once more, unfolding uneven bits that had been tacked on. “That’s half a days travel by horse…” Phil sighed, “Eh- why not.” 

With the little piglin in his bag, Philza lead his horse through the portal, mounting on the other side. He set off at a trot, picking up the pace as multitudes of mobs came into view. His horse’s breastplate, emblazoned with the same strange language as the map, bore a symbol of peace to the mobs scattered around him, but it wasn’t a guarantee. It was rare that he traversed the nether on horseback, but the next bastion was very far away, and the trip would take several arduous days on foot. 

~~~

The traveler folded his wings as the piglin’ watched from the lookouts of the bastion. The few that mingled outside of the gates rushed towards him with a sort of confused hostility. They made guttural noises at him, none of which he understood. Carefully pulling the package out of his bag, the piglins took a few steps back in awe. Phil gestured to a guard clad in leather armor to take the pig, but no one made a move to grab it. 

Hastily, he pulled a few nuggets of gold that he had collected earlier out of a small drawstring purse, placing them in the toddler's hands. He tried and tried to give the creature back, but to no avail. No one at the bastion wanted it. 

Hesitantly, he walked back to his horse, patting its abalone neck before mounting. He gave a three-fingered wave to the piglins, the wave of Notch, before spurring his horse forward and returning home. 

Over the next few months, Mr. Minecraft accomplished what some would call ‘extraordinary.’ The child, now called David, had picked up a few words of English. He could also toddle back and forth, but fell sometimes. Phil had grown very fond of his newfound child and intended to raise him to the best of his ability. He planned to teach him so many things later in life, including marital arts, which David already seemed to enjoy. 

They were happy with each other's company, a future shining above the soon-to-grow family.


	4. Crimson Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil has seen too much of his own families' blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// Lots of blood and graphic descriptions of injury, Wilbur's death (mentioned)

Philza’s sword was dripping with his son’s blood, a rusty handmark smeared into his scruff. Dried trails of tears reflected on his face as he walked shakily away from the smoldering ashes of his country. Hiking up the rubble, his solemn look transitioned to panic almost immediately. Rushing over to a puddle of blood that Tubbo huddled over, a red-collar shirt, stained with that same sickening color, tossed aside. 

Tubbo was still in a state of shock, he whispered, “It’s everywhere...The blood-” He sat huddled behind the winged man, “I couldn't stop it- I tried.” The boy continued to ramble on hysterically, Phil was in a state of tunnel-vision, not thinking to comfort him. The kid curled into a ball, a crazed, pained look in his eyes as he rocked back and forth. 

“Tommy,” Philza’s wings came over them to shield from the starting rain, “Oh come on, wake up son…” He ruffled the blonde hair, soaked red, as he checked for a pulse. Tommy’s neck beat weakly against Phil’s fingers. A wheezy cough caused bright blue eyes to flutter open, the teen attempting to sit up. 

“Oh thank gods-” Philza stopped in his tracks as his hand brushed against a warm liquid flowing from Tommy’s abdomen. His pupils contracted, he felt his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach, throat going dry. Tommy, still contorted in a silent plea for help, muttered something unintelligible. “It's going to be-” Phil felt tears prick at his eyes, “You’re going to be okay son.” 

Reaching for his satchel, he grabbed a pink potion that had but a few drops in it. Pouring out the dribbles of potion onto the gaping wound, Tommy came back from the murky realm where he could only see black. Heavy tears fell onto his bare chest as he felt frantic, rough, hands working at the dull ache on his stomach. “Da-” Tommy croaked, beginning to cough more, the taste of iron in his mouth. “Shh..” The other man said through tears, “we’re gonna get you out of here.” 

Tommy wondered dazedly why Tubbo was shaking, or why his right arm was resting in something sticky, but he just closed his eyes again, each inhale brought more pain than the last. Rough hands reached to arch his back off of the ground, moving him away from the weird substance, warm and soft bandages hugging his sides as the wound was wrapped. 

Sitting down by Tommy’s side, Tubbo began to spout soothing words as Tommy was pulled sharply back to his senses, the world spinning out of pain as he was lifted up onto a makeshift stretcher. “Ow, Ow…” His cries growing louder with each step. He could only see the tops of the ruined buildings and the gray sky as droplets fell onto his face. 

“I know kid,” Philza said as they continued to walk, Tommy’s pain growing evident, “almost there.”


	5. Where Is My Mind?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short poetic story about Wilbur going for a night drive & listening to music.

The pinpricks of light emanating from the dashboard illuminated Wilbur’s face with a ghostly blue. Warm music with raw vocals filled his awe of the night as he drove faster along the barren highway.

The windows were down, fresh night air rushing through his wavy hair, the curls moving like snakes against the wind. He wanted to shout his love for the inviting darkness to the sleeping world, the streetlamps watching over him with their unmoving yellow eyes.

He drove into the mouth of a pale-faced tunnel, the harsh light drawing streaks across his face, tracing his features. He parted his lips to sing, but his voice died in him. He wanted to feel. He wanted to feel the music, feel the breeze, feel the way his hoodie sat on his neck, feel the leather of the steering wheel under his fingers. 

The smooth acoustic guitar left a fruity taste in his mouth, his chest swelling with the music. He threw his head back in joy as the song came to a final crescendo, echoing warm summer nights and the taste of carelessly drunk liquor. He smiled in ecstasy as he felt himself almost slip away, he was lost in the music. He wanted the whole world to experience his emotions, and he was the whole world.

Alone on the highway once again, as the feeling died slightly in his chest, the almost blue moonlit pavement bringing him back to his body. 


	6. Broken Record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a friend! (It was their idea, 100% of this idea goes to them) 
> 
> "Tommy hears eerie, indistinct music in the woods while gathering spruce wood, he follows the source of the noise and discovers a record player..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw// A LITTLE blood, passing out

Eerie, popcorn-like music floated from the woods, catching Tommy’s attention while he chipped away at the base of a spruce tree. Hefting his axe over his shoulder, Tommy allowed himself to be lured into the woods by the music, the broken electric notes grazing over hints of dopamine in his brain.

A clearing in the woods revealed a rundown record player, emanating warped song, with a green-centered disc spinning feebly under its dusty needle. Entranced, the boy attempted to pry the disc from its prison, almost as if to take it as a souvenir. In many bouts of failure, he lifted the arm from the grooves of the record, the air around him running cold and silent. _He had to tell Tubbo about this._

Departing at a run, escaping an invisible terror that suddenly set into his bones, he ran back the way he had come, following the path of crushed leaves and familiar landmarks. The tree with a knot on its right, a rusty bicycle, that one bush of flowers that stuck out further than the rest.

~~~

Instead of the sound of isolated footsteps, the crunching of leaves was now illuminated by two sets of four, heavy legs. A knicker and a snort transitioned into a quickened pace, the two boys now mounted atop their respective horses. 

“You reckon it wasn’t a weird dream or something?” A juvenile voice asked as they continued to trot into the heart of the trees.

“No, I swear Tubbo, it was just a music bo-” Mid-sentence, a faint _dinging_ found its way towards the friends, a flicker of eye contact between them before they set out, yet faster, in search of the elusive sound. 

~~~

Sliding off out of the saddle, Tommy rushed over to the turntable that he had seen yesterday. It held almost a dream-like quality, just out of the ordinary enough to seem fake. He, once again, attempted to remove the disc, but it was glued to where it sat. If he had listened closer, Tommy would have heard the faint sound of an enderman teleporting, but his senses were obscured by the task at hand. 

He felt Tubbo peer over his shoulder, watching the other’s attempts at salvaging a scrap of their adventure, Tommy looked over his shoulder for advice but was met by something that made his stomach plummet. It wasn’t Tubbo who was standing behind him. A familiar, yet estranged face towered over him, zombie-like red and green eyes surrounded by scrapes and spots of dried blood. 

After the fear that closed his throat subsided, his expression transitioned to confusion. “Ranboo?” Tommy backed into the jukebox behind him, he fumbled to get behind it, “You okay man?” His laugh was filled with nerves. _Run Run Run RUN._

The thought occurred too late, and the collar of his shirt choked him backward, the hybrid easily overpowering him and throwing him against the ridged bark of a tree. Tommy stuttered over his words, but before he could say anything, his vision flashed, the feeling of water filling his brain, promptly entering the void of peace before the flurry of red emotions. 


End file.
